


After the Maelstrom

by BenAddictViolaBatch



Series: Through the Maelstrom [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, American John Watson, Bad Knees, Bees, Blow Jobs, Body Image, Dog Tags, Epistolary, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Is it even a Sherlock Holmes retirement fic if there aren’t bees though, Johnlock Roulette, Kansas City, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oral Sex, POV John Watson, Past Gay Bashing, Retirement, Sequel, Sexual Content, Sherlock Plays the Violin, Slash, Vietnam Veteran John, Violinist Sherlock, body acceptance, tokens of affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenAddictViolaBatch/pseuds/BenAddictViolaBatch
Summary: A sequel set in 2015, 38 years after the events of Through the Maelstrom.(Naturally, this will make a lot more sense if you've read Through the Maelstrom.)Cover art for this work:https://benaddictviolabatch.tumblr.com/post/170464858205/cover-art-for-my-ao3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For L., always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location Notes:
> 
> You may refer to Through the Maelstrom Chapter 1 for notes on Kansas City's Plaza area and Chapter 5 for notes on Loose Park and its rose garden. 
> 
> Tivol is an iconic Kansas City jewelry store, founded in 1910. Its main location is (yep, you guessed it) on the Plaza.

Friday, June 26, 2015

2:15pm

Remarkable violin music filtered in from the living room as John sat down at the kitchen table with his laptop and a cup of tea. In John's opinion, Sherlock's newest composition was one of the best he'd written in years. He relaxed into his chair and closed his eyes to listen.

After a few minutes, Sherlock's voice cut through his reverie. "You're overdoing the rubato. Go back to letter K."

John wondered at how Sherlock could possibly find fault with Tanisha's playing. It had sounded flawless to him. She was easily John's favorite among the few students Sherlock had deemed worthy of his time and instruction, with sparkling deep brown eyes and a throaty, infectious laugh.

He listened carefully as she repeated the section, and by God, Sherlock had been right. Now that Tanisha was keeping her forward momentum a bit, he realized that she'd tipped almost imperceptibly toward self-indulgence the previous time.

Yet again, Sherlock had shown her a way to elevate her already remarkable artistry. _I will never stop being in awe of this man_ , he thought.

He opened his laptop and clicked on his CNN bookmark. His heart leaped as he read the banner across the top of the website: 'Supreme Court Rules in Favor of Same-Sex Marriage Nationwide.' His hands trembled as he read the reports and clicked through pictures of people celebrating on the steps of the court building and elsewhere.

He lifted his forearm and glanced at Sherlock's watch. Tanisha's lesson would be finished soon. He needed to make his escape before Sherlock caught sight of his face and read his intentions on it.

He shut the laptop, poured his now-cold tea out in the sink, rinsed his mug, and went out for his daily walk.

It just so happened that, on that day, his walk led him to Tivol.

 

\----------

 

Saturday, June 27, 2015

6:00am

John handed Sherlock a travel mug of coffee and kissed him goodbye as he headed out to check on his bees. As soon as Sherlock shut the door behind him, John hurried to the bedroom and shucked off his bathrobe. He dressed quickly but carefully in a charcoal gray suit with a robin's-egg blue shirt.

He parked his car next to Sherlock's at Loose Park and nervously checked his pocket as he walked toward the rose garden.

John paused when he caught sight of him. Sherlock was sitting on his usual bench, facing away from John, scribbling in his notebook. He was wearing his peacock green shirt, which was John's favorite because of the way it played up Sherlock's lovely eyes.

John took a deep breath and walked to him as steadily as he could manage.

Sherlock turned toward John as he approached and smiled warmly. His eyes sparked with joy as he took in John's carefully groomed appearance. "John," he said quietly.

John couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Sherlock." He stopped in front of him and leaned heavily on his cane as he went down onto his stronger knee.

Sherlock's eyes widened in concern. He dropped his notebook and pen on the bench so he could reach out and grab at John. "John, no! Your knees!"

John laid his cane on the ground next to him and gripped Sherlock's forearms. The knee he'd put down on the sidewalk was in fact protesting violently, but he didn't want to let on. "If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right, baby."

Sherlock's eyes softened. "Doesn't it hurt, though?" he asked gently.

John tilted his head. "Yeah," he admitted. He let a slow smile spread across his face. "But I don't give a rat's ass."

Sherlock's face lit up anew. He turned his head to the side and giggled quietly.

 _I will never get tired of making this man laugh_. John watched the early morning sunlight catch in Sherlock's silver-white curls, making them glow like a corona around his head. He was breathtakingly beautiful. "You remember," John said softly.

Sherlock turned to look into John's eyes again. "Like it was yesterday," he said, his eyes shining ocean blue in the warm sunlight. "That was the most important moment of my life." He moved one hand up to John's cheek. "Until this one."

John was nearly unable to continue, but he took a steadying breath. His knee really was killing him. He shifted and lowered his weaker knee to the ground to ease some of the pressure. _Steady, John. Time to do this_.

"Sherlock, it has been my great privilege to spend nearly thirty-eight years by your side. You have made me happier than I ever thought I could be. Every good thing in my life was better because I could share it with you. And every loss I experienced was more bearable because I was able to lean on you."

Sherlock lifted a trembling hand to cover his mouth.

"Some of those thirty-eight years were... well, they were unimaginable. I wouldn't have survived them without your constant strength and love."

Sherlock's eyes fell closed. A tear slipped out from under his eyelashes and tracked down his cheek.

"Everything that I am, everything that I have done - it's all because of you."

Sherlock opened his eyes. They widened as John reached into his jacket pocket. John pulled out a small gray box and opened it to reveal a heavy platinum wedding band.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, will you marry me?"

Sherlock nodded, his hand still over his mouth.

John grinned broadly. "Is that a yes?"

Sherlock's hand dropped away from his mouth. "Yes, John, of course I will!" he choked out.

"Good." John took Sherlock's left hand and gently pushed the ring onto his finger. Sherlock held his hand out to look at it with a slightly dazed expression. Then a spark of mischief flitted across his face. He slid off the bench and onto his knees.

John grabbed him. "No, don't! You'll hurt your knees!"

Sherlock winced in pain, then grinned at him. "But _you're_ doing it!"

"Which is why I was counting on you to help me up!"

Realization dawned on Sherlock's face. "Oh."

John laughed. " _Oh_. What are we going to do now?"

Sherlock put his hands on John's upper arms. "I'm sure you'll think of something." He pulled John closer and kissed him deeply.

When he pulled back, John looked at him in wonder. _How did I get so lucky? How could I ever deserve this remarkable man?_

Sherlock was looking at John with unmasked adoration. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small box. John's mouth dropped open in shock. Sherlock smiled radiantly. He opened the box. Inside was a gold wedding band.

"Sherlock - you - you _knew!_ You knew I was going to do this!"

"Of course I did. I know _you_ , John."

Warmth filled John's heart. "Yes, you do." He tenderly pushed Sherlock's hair back from his forehead. "Better than anyone."

Sherlock took the gold ring out of the box. "My father's wedding ring. When Mycroft died last year, it passed on to me. It would mean the world to me if you would wear it."

John couldn't speak. He held his trembling hand out and nodded.

Sherlock slipped the ring onto his finger. "It suits you."

John nodded again, still too overcome to speak. He put both hands into Sherlock's hair and pulled him down into a kiss. It was tender, but there was a current of heat under the sweetness.

Sherlock pulled back. "All right. Up we get." He grabbed hold of the bench behind him and began to push his way back onto it. John grabbed him, steadying him and pushing him upward until he landed back on the bench.

Sherlock gripped John's forearms as John managed, with some difficulty, to get back onto his feet. Sherlock stood, still holding on to John. He locked their arms together and bent to retrieve his notebook and John's cane.

John was grateful for the support. His knees hadn't forgiven him for kneeling on the sidewalk, and he wasn't quite steady enough to be confident walking alone yet. Sherlock led John to the passenger side of his black-cherry red Challenger and opened the door for him.

John looked up at him. "What about _my_ car?"

"We'll come back for it later. I don't want you driving until your knees recover a bit."

"Sherlock -"

"Just get in the car, John. Please." He fixed his eyes on John's. "I want to go home. _Now_." Heat was building in Sherlock's gaze.

John felt an answering warmth sparking in his own body. He yielded, lowering himself carefully into the car.

As soon as John locked the apartment door behind them, Sherlock tightened his grip on him and pulled him toward their bedroom. John couldn't stop smiling. "Where are we going?"

Sherlock kept pulling. "Bedroom. We've just become affianced, and we need to celebrate."

"Do we?" John teased.

Sherlock pulled him through the doorway. " _Yes_ , John."

"It's not even seven o'clock in the morning."

Sherlock pushed John down gently so he sat on the bed. "Don't care." He bent to pull John's shoes off, then sat next to John and started taking off his own shoes. "Take your clothes off."

John grinned at him. "Oh, dear. It seems my new fiancé is quite demanding."

"Yes, he is," Sherlock replied as he tossed his shoes aside and attacked his own shirt buttons. "Clothes off. _Now_."

John chuckled and slipped his suit coat off. He tossed it on the floor and started opening his shirt buttons.

Sherlock was completely nude except for John's dog tags by the time John had his shirt off. When John stood up to take his trousers off, Sherlock threw the bedcovers back. He crawled onto their bed. "John, come _on_."

John threw his trousers and pants aside and got into bed next to him. "Impatient."

"Yes." Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, pulling their bodies together. His skin was warm against John's. He kissed John deeply for several minutes before pushing him flat on his back. He moved over him, his knees bracketing John's hips and his hands on either side of John's head. He kissed John again, pulling John's lower lip between his own.

Then he moved on to John's neck, kissing, licking, and nipping at it gently. John felt like he could melt right into the mattress. Sherlock made his way down to John's collarbone, then onto his chest. He continued moving lower, kissing every inch of John's skin. As he reached John's abdomen, John tensed up. He'd put on weight over the years, and he worried sometimes that Sherlock would be put off by his soft belly. He squeezed his eyes closed.

Sherlock tapped John's thigh. "Hey."

John opened his eyes to see Sherlock looking up at him with deep affection in his eyes.

"None of that. I adore you. _All_ of you. Every single piece of you is perfect. Are you hearing me, John?"

John nodded.

"Good. Now, relax and let me show you." He smiled wickedly and lowered his head again, kissing one of John's surgery scars.

John let his head fall back as his anxiety faded. He let his body respond to Sherlock's touch, arching his back gently toward him. Sherlock hummed in pleasure and redoubled his efforts to kiss every inch of John's skin.

When Sherlock finally took John's aching cock into his mouth, John whimpered quietly. He rocked his hips up to meet Sherlock's movements. After only a few minutes, he could feel his peak approaching.

He gently pushed Sherlock back. "Not yet. Together," he said as he guided Sherlock down onto his back.

He rolled on top of Sherlock, straddling his hips and pinning his wrists to the mattress on either side of his head. Sherlock responded with a gasp of pleasure. His body arched under John's.

John nuzzled into Sherlock's neck, sighing as Sherlock tipped his head to the side to expose more of his pale skin to John's attention. Sherlock tugged at John's grip on his wrists, testing the strength of the hold without attempting to break it.

John let more of his weight press Sherlock down into the mattress. He allowed his teeth to pass over Sherlock's skin as he let out a low growl.

"John!" Sherlock gasped, his body arching anew under John's. John smiled into Sherlock's neck, savoring his reaction.

He slowly made his way down Sherlock's body, the exquisite body he knew better than he knew his own. He took his time, despite the pain in his knees and the ache in his shoulder, writing his love over Sherlock's skin with a thousand kisses.

At last, he grasped Sherlock's cock and dragged his tongue over the head. Sherlock cried out loudly in pleasure and relief. John took him all the way in. He read Sherlock's desires in the way his body flexed underneath him, the way his hands clutched at his hair, and the way his cock thickened against his tongue. He gave Sherlock exactly what he needed, until Sherlock was quivering beneath him, his orgasm approaching rapidly.

He released him and sat up. A whimper of loss escaped Sherlock, but he looked up at John with unwavering trust.

John smiled down at him adoringly. "Together." He leaned over to get the lube from the top drawer of the nightstand.

As he settled back on top of Sherlock's thighs, he smirked. "Give me that big paw of yours."

Sherlock gave John his right hand and a pointed look.

"Have I ever mentioned how much I love your hands?" John asked.

"Once or twice," Sherlock answered quietly, his expression softening immediately. Desire burned in his verdigris eyes as he watched John pour lube onto his hand and stash the bottle under his pillow.

John wrapped Sherlock's hand around them both of them together, gasping in pleasure. "Oh, you feel so good, Sherlock!" He kept his own left hand over Sherlock's right, guiding him.

Sherlock let out a low moan. His hips hitched upward. John captured Sherlock's left hand and laced their fingers together, relishing the familiar stretch as his own fingers spread between Sherlock's larger ones.

Feeling the new weight of the ring on Sherlock's hand sent a thrill through John's heart. He pressed Sherlock's left hand into the mattress and moved his right hand faster over them both, watching as Sherlock tipped his head back in ecstasy.

"That's it, my love. That's gorgeous," John murmured breathlessly. He began to thrust his hips lightly.

Both of Sherlock's hands tightened as he came with a sharp cry.

John went over the edge seconds later. He tipped his head back as the wave of his pleasure crested, washing over him. As the haze of orgasm cleared, he stilled his hips, gasping for breath. He released Sherlock's hands and collapsed onto the bed at his left side.

Sherlock brought his clean hand up and pushed his own hair back from his face. His eyes were closed as he tried to catch his breath. "Love you," he said softly.

John rolled onto his right side, resting a hand on Sherlock's chest and kissing his shoulder. He draped his left leg across Sherlock's. "Love you, too."

After a few quiet minutes, Sherlock got out of bed and went to clean up. John stayed where he was, drifting toward sleep.

Then Sherlock was standing over him. He held a glass of water out to John. "Here."

John took the glass. Sherlock held up an Aleve capsule. Warmth flooded John's heart as he took the pill from Sherlock's hand. "What's this?"

"Your knees are still bothering you."

John nodded and let a lascivious smile spread across his face. "Worth it." He sat up, swallowed the pill, and handed the glass back.

When Sherlock settled back into bed, John immediately wrapped himself around him. He nuzzled into Sherlock's neck. "You were right."

"Obviously," Sherlock said in a mock-imperious tone. He tenderly stroked his hand down John's back until it came to rest in the curve at the base of his spine. "About what?"

"That was an excellent way to celebrate."

He felt Sherlock's chuckle. "Indeed."

"I'm still taking you out for a nice dinner later, though." John propped his head up on his arm. He trailed his fingertips over a Sherlock's chest until they landed against his dog tags. He picked them up. "Now that you'll have a proper wedding ring, I suppose you won't have to wear these clunky old things."

Sherlock snatched the dog tags out of John's hand, glaring at him fiercely. He clutched them to his chest possessively.

John held his hand up in surrender. "Or you could keep them if you like," he said in a soothing tone.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed further. "You planning to stop wearing that old watch?" he asked hesitantly.

"Not a chance in hell," John replied with an indulgent smile.

Sherlock visibly relaxed. "All right, then." He released the dog tags, letting them fall back into place on his chest. "I'm keeping the dog tags, John."

"Okay."

Sherlock tipped his head and looked intently into John's eyes. "Why in the world did you think I'd even _consider_ giving them up if you don't plan to give the watch up?"

"It's not exactly a hardship, wearing a vintage Patek Philippe." He stroked his fingers over the face of the watch. "Not really comparable to those old dog tags, I don't think."

"No, not comparable at all." Sherlock wrapped his hand around the tags again. "These are worth more to me than all the Patek Philippes in the world."

John's heart swelled. " _Sherlock_."

They were quiet for a while.

John settled his head back on the pillow. "Do you know why I wanted to propose to you in the rose garden?"

Sherlock's smile was warm. "Tell me."

"I was remembering that time I went for a run, right after we had first met, before we were together, and I found you there by accident."

"Serendipity."

John smiled. "Yes." He stroked his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "I'd been up in the middle of the night with a nightmare. I'd stood on the roof of my building and looked up here at your apartment, and I'd decided I was going to make you mine."

Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed. " _John_."

"I went running first thing in the morning, and there you were. You were so gorgeous. I can still see you now, sunshine catching in your hair, eyes bright and beautiful, shirt buttons barely holding. You always did wear your shirts tight like that. Drove me crazy. I was constantly fighting the urge to rip them off of you, you know."

Sherlock snickered. He opened his eyes. "You drove me absolutely mad, too, John. That day in the garden especially."

"What are you talking about, Sherlock? You looked like a model and I was wearing ratty old jogging clothes!"

Sherlock propped himself up on his elbows. "As many times as I've tried to tell you, you still have _no idea_ how sexy you were in that threadbare army t-shirt. And oh dear God, those indecent little shorts. I had to go home and wank myself half-blind."

John burst out laughing. "You're kidding!"

Sherlock flopped back down. He reached across John to capture his left hand, weaving their fingers together. "I'm completely serious, John. I'd never seen anything sexier. It's a wonder I survived, really."

"I'm glad you did."

Sherlock pulled John's hand closer, gazing at his father's wedding ring around John's finger. He rested their joined hands over his heart and closed his eyes. "So am I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> There will be an epilogue posted in one week. It takes the form of a newspaper feature story on John & Sherlock. 
> 
> ❤️


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location Note:
> 
> Unity Temple is a landmark of the Plaza, a beloved public speaking and recital venue, and a place of acceptance and diversity.

**The Kansas City Star**

Sunday, September 20, 2015

 

**Love Wins**

**Part Three: Music and Medicine**

 

This is the third installment of the Star's six-part series of profiles of same-sex couples in the Kansas City area who married after marriage equality became U.S. law.

 

_< header photo: John and Sherlock stand together in the rose garden. Sherlock is wearing a pearl gray linen suit with a white shirt. John is wearing an ivory linen suit with a pale blue and white checked shirt. They are both wearing white rose boutonnières. John has one hand tucked in the crook of Sherlock's elbow. He holds a cane in the other. Sherlock looks into the camera, but John looks up at Sherlock with palpable affection. Caption: John Watson and Sherlock Holmes on their wedding day. August 1st, 2015, Loose Park.>_

 

The sun was glowing brightly through the floor-to-ceiling windows when Dr. John Watson welcomed me into the apartment he shares with his husband, Sherlock Holmes. Watson and I sat down for this interview as Holmes roamed restlessly through the apartment, collecting documents and scribbling notes.

Watson and Holmes have shared the spacious 12th-floor apartment with its stunning view overlooking the Country Club Plaza since 1977. They married last month, on the 38th anniversary of the day they met, in a quiet ceremony in the rose garden at Loose Park, a place of personal significance for them.

Watson and Holmes are both well known in the area, albeit in somewhat different circles. Holmes, 70, served as concertmaster of the Kansas City Symphony for 32 years in addition to his 10-year tenure with the Kansas City Philharmonic, the Symphony's predecessor.

Watson, 75, is a prominent physician. He began his medical career with the U.S. Army, serving in Vietnam until 1973, when he was wounded in action. Watson was awarded the Purple Heart, among a number of other awards and decorations. In 1978, he founded the Watson Clinic, one of the first medical practices in the area to cater specifically to the gay community. The clinic is now run by Watson's niece, Dr. Andrea Watson-Turner.

 

_< photo inset: A youthful John, in his army dress uniform, looks stoically into the camera. Caption: Captain John H. Watson, M.D., U.S. Army Medical Corps, 1970, shortly before he was stationed in Vietnam.>_

 

When Watson retired from medical practice in 2010, he began a second career as an author. His 2012 best-seller, 'Into Battle: A Memoir of the Front Lines of the AIDS Epidemic,' is his chronicle of the AIDS crisis in Kansas City and his efforts to save his patients' lives. Watson was reluctant to discuss the years described in the book, stating, "I'll let the book speak for me on that subject. I did what could. I only wish I could have done more."

At this point in the conversation, Holmes appeared next to me and interjected, "He's too modest. I was, and I remain, in awe of what he did for his patients. Not a single one died alone. He fought like hell for their lives, but on the occasions when he couldn't save them, which were unfortunately many in those days, he made sure they were cared for. He stayed with them at all hours, night after night. He held their hands when their families had abandoned them. And he buried them with dignity."

When he'd finished speaking, Holmes turned on his heel and stalked over to a baby grand piano near the living room windows, the silk robe he wore over his clothes fluttering behind him. He began digging furiously through the large pile of paper on top of the piano's lid.

When asked what he was working on, Holmes mumbled something about bee colonies as he continued his search. An avid amateur apiologist, Holmes monitors the health of the bee population in Loose Park.

The top of the piano was stacked high with charts, notebooks, and sheet music, both printed and handwritten.

"What are you looking for?" Watson asked him.

"Last month's population estimate," Holmes answered without looking up from his search.

"My offer to help you set up a filing system still stands, you know," Watson said.

"I already have a filing system, John. I know precisely where everything is."

"Clearly," Watson replied with a smile.

"Ha!" Holmes cried triumphantly, yanking a single sheet of paper out of the stack and holding it up. He disappeared into his and Watson's office, silk robe trailing behind him.

Watson laughed. "He prefers his own methods."

I asked Watson about Holmes's reputation as a formidable and exacting musician. "Oh, his reputation is well deserved. He's never been one to tolerate any type of sloppiness or laziness when it comes to performances," Watson answered. "Of course, there is more to him than that," he added. When asked if he might be implying that Holmes has a softer side, Watson demurred. "No one would dare suggest such a thing about the great Sherlock Holmes," he said with a wink.

Holmes was born in southeast England. He studied composition and violin performance in London at the prestigious Royal Academy of Music, and relocated to Kansas City in 1972 when he was offered the concertmaster position with the Kansas City Philharmonic. He has been a prominent presence in Kansas City's classical music community for over forty years.

 

_< photo inset: An official photo of the Kansas City Philharmonic in concert dress. The musicians are seated, holding their instruments. Gregory Lestrade stands next to his podium. A young Sherlock is seated just to Lestrade's right. Caption: Sherlock Holmes with the Kansas City Philharmonic, 1980.>_

 

Holmes is also well known as a composer. His works have been performed extensively throughout the world. He is best known for an unaccompanied violin work, 'Watershed,' which he premiered in recital at Unity Temple in 1979. Holmes is famously unforthcoming with details of the personal inspiration for his works, but it has been suggested by sources close to Holmes that the piece deals with the Plaza flood of 1977 and its impact on Holmes and Watson and their fledgling relationship.

After I completed my interview with Watson, I finally convinced Holmes to sit still long enough to answer a few questions. Watson disappeared into the kitchen.

After a few minutes spent reviewing his biographical details, Holmes leaned forward and spoke quietly and earnestly. "When I met John Watson, I was 32 years old and had long since given up on love. I didn't expect to have any type of meaningful relationship, let alone find a lifelong partner. Having him with me for the last 38 years has been more than I could ever deserve. And he -"

Holmes broke off for a moment to compose himself before continuing, "He paid dearly for being with me. People tend to forget, now that he's accomplished so much, but when he lost his job because of me he had to rebuild his career from the ground up. And most of his family disowned him. His own mother didn't speak to him for the rest of her life."

"None of those things are in any way your fault," Watson interjected. He handed me a perfect cup of tea and sat down next to Holmes, taking his hand.

Watson and Holmes have faced adversity over the years. In 1998, they were attacked in the parking lot of Watson's clinic. The incident left both men seriously injured. Watson's right knee never fully recovered, and he now walks with a cane. Holmes carries a scar on his temple. Their assailants, who shouted homophobic slurs during the attack, were never caught.

Although both men are now ostensibly retired, they continue to contribute regularly in their respective fields. Holmes is still publishing new music and teaching a small, elite collection of violinists. Watson continues to be involved in the day-to-day operations of the Watson Holmes Foundation, a nonprofit organization which he and Holmes established in 1983 to fund HIV/AIDS research and education. The Foundation also subsidizes medical care and basic needs for people living with HIV/AIDS.

As the discussion turned to their recent wedding, Watson retrieved a handsome leather-bound wedding album from its place of honor in the center of their extensive bookshelves. As I paged through it carefully, he told me about the intimate group of close friends and family in attendance at the ceremony.

"You know, I didn't think it would," Watson said when asked if it felt different being married after decades of partnership. “But I was wrong. Being able to tell the world in such a simple yet profound way that I belong to him and he belongs to me has meant more to me than I can possibly express."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s all for now, lovely readers. I appreciate each and every one of you. Positive and/or constructive comments are always welcome. ❤️


End file.
